“There’s an after-school program three days a week for young artists and writers. I think Maya would be a great candidate. Qualifying for the program is difficult, there’s more competition than slots available, but I think she’d make it with a little help. Volunteers provide all the classes. It’s called Future Artists of America. I’d like to encourage Maya to apply.”
Lang’s attitude changed suddenly; he looked so serious and forbidding now. “Maya hasn’t earned the trust necessary for extracurricular activities. If I wasn’t such a pushover, she’d be on restriction until the day she gets married.”
“It could make a difference in her life, encourage her art. Maybe even make her want to go to college. Seventy percent of the program graduates pursue secondary educations.”
A server arrived and Lang ordered for both of them. Lily didn’t interrupt, though she found it odd he didn’t ask what she liked. But he ordered everything she loved—shrimp and lobster, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables, even red wine from a Texas winery, Driftwood Estate Vineyards.
“I’ll consider your recommendation,” he said after the waiter left. “Just understand where I’m coming from. Maya needs to turn things around soon.”
“I appreciate your opinion, Lang. She’s done some questionable things…”
“You read her file?”
“Cover to cover.”
His eyes were alarmingly blue and distracting; they seemed to change color with his mood. She said, “Experimenting with marijuana and a couple fights is tame compared to what I’ve seen.”
“Dr. Henley mentioned yesterday that he’d hired a tough girl from South Philly. I never put two and two together.”
Warmth flooded Lily’s cheeks. “He’s a gracious man, exaggerates a little I think.”
“Take credit for your accomplishments.” His fingers skimmed over hers, once again igniting her skin. “So tell me about your old home. Why’d you leave Philadelphia?”
“Oh, several reasons…” Lily never discussed her personal life with outsiders. But he’d been candid with her, so forthcoming it almost inspired her to do the same.
“Lily.” This time he cupped her cheek. “I’m the last person to judge anything you say.”
She couldn’t hold her thoughts in. “I witnessed a shooting in the school parking lot a year ago. One of my students was gunned down in cold blood and I couldn’t do anything to save him. He died in my arms.” Tears burned her eyes.
It pained her to relive the memory—the blood all over her dress, the gurgling sound Alexander made fighting for shallow breaths, the tears in his eyes, the screaming sirens…Then the media, shoving microphones in her face while she fought to get away…
She’d nearly reached her tipping point then, but stuck it out, not wanting to abandon her students who faced the threat of violence every day. Other teachers and administrative personnel transferred or moved out of state as a result, a period in time she considered the great exodus. And with them went the opportunity for students to receive quality educations.
The server arrived with their bottle of wine, popped the cork, then filled their glasses.
“Thank you,” Lang said. “Bring us another half dozen oysters.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter departed.
He picked up her wineglass and handed it to her. “Take a long drink, Lily.”
She did.
“Is that what upsets you? Something you had no control over?”
She studied the wood decking under her feet, able to see people below between the slats. “Half of it,” she confessed.
“And the rest?” His warm hand found hers again.
His steady voice comforted her, but the way his touch sank below her skin, caressing her in places she didn’t know existed, made her want to run away. “I’m an only child.” She looked up. “So I’m much too invested in my parents’ lives. My father is involved with another woman, and it turned my whole world inside out. I came here to start over.”
Cursing her stupidity for revealing her deepest secrets, the most intimate points of shame and contention within herself, she tried to concentrate on the lovely view. But the intensity of his stare kept reeling her back in.
“You can’t keep secrets like that, Lily. Sooner or later you need to open up to someone. And I’ve already told you, I’m the last person to judge.”
The evening air felt cool on her flushed cheeks. Everything came to a violent boil whenever she was around Lang. “Now you know my story. There’s nothing left to share.”
“I doubt that, Counselor. You’re more of an enigma than you think.”
The salads arrived next, brimming with Texas toast croutons, plump tomatoes, and feta cheese. “Dear Lord,” she said, grateful for the distraction. “I can’t possibly eat all of this.”
“Didn’t Tina tell you our secret before you moved here?”
“What?” she asked, playing along.
“Everything’s bigger in Texas.”
Chapter 11
Lang intended to strip Lily, layer by complicated layer. He’d recognized the intelligence behind those hypnotizing eyes the first time they’d met. That’s why he made the effort to spend time with her. And of course he was turned on by her body, which looked entirely too tempting in tight jeans, an off-the-shoulder top, and high heels. He even liked the blue eyeliner that made her dark eyes pop. Her blond hair curled over her shoulders, soft and fragrant. Lilacs or something ultrafeminine wafted his way whenever the breeze blew in the right direction.
He’d like to bury his face in her hair. Breathe her in while he fucked her gently at first, then flipped her over on all fours, her ass spread out before him.
So she’d seen her share of violence and blood. It made her more approachable. And her tears served as a testament to her humanity. But she’d survived, even moved on to start a new life. That demonstrated something else he deeply admired in anyone: self-preservation. The kind of moxie he wanted Maya to learn. Without it, his sister would crash and burn.
Lily took a mouthful of salad, oblivious to his stare. Even the way she chewed got him hot. Fucking most ridiculous thing he’d ever experienced with a woman. He blamed it on the lack of sex—since he’d met her, he hadn’t banged anyone. Not even a random blow job from one of the pass-arounds. His wrist hurt from jacking off in the shower. He laughed out loud.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“Just thinking about Maya. How lucky she is to have you on her side now.”
An hour later, they both groaned from the consequences of gorging themselves.
“I can’t move,” she complained.
He chuckled. “You don’t strike me as one of those salad-eating bitches.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Shame on you. I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Why not?”
“Vegans play an important role in our society.”
This he had to hear. “Really?”
“Sure,” she teased, her eyes glittering. “Great role models for healthy eating—so don’t be so judgmental.”
He snorted. “I’m down with the eat-healthy thing, Counselor, but I’m not a goddamned rabbit, and neither are you.”
“No, I’m not,” she agreed. “I’m a hopeless omnivore.”
He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Want to take a walk on the beach?” Although the sun had set already, the strip of sand behind the restaurant was well lit by the outdoor floodlights and the bar next door.
“Sure,” she said. “Anything to burn some calories.”
He’d rather put her on the back of his bike and burn some gasoline. Later maybe. He wanted to explore the renewed connection between them first. He pulled a hundred and fifty dollars from his wallet and dropped it on the table. “Ready?”
“No, Lang,” she tsked, digging inside her purse. “We’ll split the cost.”
“Excuse me?” A woman had never offered to pay for dinner. Not that he wanted her to. “Things are differe
nt in Texas, darlin’.” He let the southern drawl shine through. “We’re not like those pricks up east, we like spoiling our women.”
“But I asked you out. In reality, it should be my treat.”
“Come on, Miss Manners—there’s no winning this debate.”
He dragged her all the way to the parking lot, humored by her insistence on giving him money. As the president of the club, his salary had doubled overnight. All the officers earned enough cash to not have to seek employment outside the charter. As for the regular members, they worked day jobs. Their financial contributions helped keep the clubhouse running, paid for the upkeep of the garage, and purchased lots of beer.
“Stop digging inside your purse,” he said. “I’m not taking your money.”
“B-but…”
“Get used to it, pretty lady,” he teased. “Another man might take your insistence as an insult.”
“Oh.” She withdrew her fingers from her bag. “I never considered that.”
“How long has it been since you went out with a man?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Months,” she admitted. “Life got in the way, and after a couple of relationship disasters, I decided to keep to myself. Safer that way.”
He couldn’t imagine what stupid son of a bitch would let Lily go without a fight. Lang walked a few more feet to his Night Rod Special. “Did you see this on your way inside?”
“Couldn’t miss it,” she said. “I knew it was yours; it reminded me of you.”
He rubbed his stubbled chin, curious. “Why?” He ran his finger up her arm, all the way to her neck, enjoying the silky feel of her skin, loving the goosebumps that followed. Her responses were too much to handle. That little body screamed for attention, his mouth and hands everywhere. One night in his bed would change her perspective about him. “Well, Counselor? You haven’t answered my question.”
“It’s big and dangerous, like you,” she quipped.
More dirty talk. His cock saluted. “You have to stop making random comments about motorcycles.”
He took liberties again, pressing a kiss to her exposed shoulder, testing her resistance, wondering how far she’d let him go. When she sighed and offered him better access to her flawless flesh, he couldn’t resist. Only this time, his tongue spiraled across her collarbone, then he blew on her skin, raising gooseflesh again.
Another motorcycle pulled up, going too fast, and he gently pushed Lily out of the way, throwing the rider a fuck-you look for not watching where he was going. He waited for the guy to take his helmet off. “You need to move your rice burner somewhere else,” he growled.
“Excuse me?”
“Move your bike, now.” Not in the mood to explain, Lang reached inside his saddlebag and grabbed his cut. He slipped it on. “Any questions, asshole?”
The rider shook his head, climbed back on his motorcycle, and started it.
Lily grabbed his hand from behind and he twisted around. “What just happened?” she asked.
“Territorial rights,” he explained. “We don’t like imports parked next to our bikes. American made, baby.”
“So you’re patriotic too? I’m going to start a formal list, Lang—you’re a walking contradiction.”
“Are we going to debate again?” He’d enjoyed their banter before. Lily had a sharp mind.
“Actually…” She gripped his hand tighter. “I believe you offered to take a stroll on the beach.”
“I’m a man of my word,” he said. He steered her around the side of the restaurant, down a tiled walkway, then onto the beach. “Want to stash your shoes?” Four-inch heels wouldn’t do well in ankle-deep sand.
She kicked them off, and he picked them up. “Wait here.” He jogged to the side of the building and opened the door to a storage room. He placed her shoes on a shelf and closed the door.
He rejoined her a minute later. “Pick a direction.”
Lily looked at the bar; the rock music from the outdoor patio was pretty loud. Then she gazed west, toward a row of condos with less light. “That way,” she said, choosing the darker, quieter direction.
They walked in companionable silence for quite a distance, Lily occasionally stopping at the water’s edge to dip her toes. “It’s so warm. Better than Cape May, where I used to vacation as a kid.”
“Stays in the eighties for the summer,” Lang told her. “Perfect conditions for skinny-dipping.”
“Are you asking me to get naked?” Her expression remained thoughtful, but the corners of her mouth curled upward.
“I wouldn’t need to ask.” He spoke with too much confidence, but didn’t give a shit at this point—he knew how to please women.
“You’re too cocky,” she said, shaking her head. “Are women lined up around the block waiting to take their clothes off for you?”
“Something like that,” he said, tugging her into his arms. “But right now all I care about is you.” He slanted his mouth over hers, hungry for a taste. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, all the pretense about the “professional” dinner disintegrated.
Both of them knew exactly what they wanted. This. A continuation of what had happened in the hallway at the bar. A chance to prove the sparks they both experienced whenever they touched were real.
Lang curled his fingers in her soft hair. He imagined her sweet pussy would feel the same—soft, wet velvet. He grabbed her wrists and dropped to his knees, bringing her with him. “Fuck, Lily, you’re gorgeous.”
Wide eyes met his. He knew he was pushing her boundaries. A reserved guidance counselor from Philadelphia had no business spending time with the president of an MC. But she was here, sitting in the sand in front of him, her already kiss-swollen mouth waiting for more. And he’d give it to her.
He drew her bottom lip between his teeth. He’d like to bite a trail down her stomach and suck on her clit. Her scent swirled around him like mist. He plundered her mouth again, stealing her breath. The kiss intensified suddenly, like someone flipped a switch on inside her. Long fingernails dug into his flesh.
His balls ached—he wanted to worship her body first and make her come so she’d relax more, then make love to her in the sand. Then fuck her in every position in every location he knew—draped across his bike, in the clubhouse, his bed, her bedroom—on her desk at work. He’d fill her with come if she let him.
His chest grazed against her hard nipples and Lang thrust his tongue deeper as he yanked the loose side of her shirt down, discovering more places to shower with soft kisses. He grabbed two handfuls of ass, squeezing her tight against him. So fucking toned and tight—she probably did yoga or some other girly exercises every day.
With her neck arched back and her breasts thrust forward, her nipples begged for tongue. He rolled the left gently between his thumb and forefinger, desperate to take one of her stiff buds in his mouth.
“Lily,” he ground out between breaths. “Unzip your pants for me.”
She panted. “Here?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. The world could go fuck itself. With her hair loose in the breeze and her eyes glowing in the moonlight, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Heat and passion flowed out of her, but her good-girl filter kicked in. She hesitated too long. Had she ever let go before? He’d bet money she hadn’t. But Lang wouldn’t let this end without giving her a preview of what he had to offer. If he couldn’t touch and taste her—even for a brief moment—he might not survive the night.
It took another kiss to convince her. She finally got up and slowly unzipped her jeans. Not striptease sexy, but like a girl who thought her parents were going to catch her getting naked with her boyfriend. Lang knelt in front of her. He could smell her arousal, and desperation thundered inside him. The anticipation of seeing her tiny snatch for the first time excited him nearly as much as the idea of tasting it. When her hands trembled as she started to lower her pants, he covered her slim fingers w
ith his, easing her jeans down her thighs.
White lace met his hungry gaze. He breathed in her femininity, the triangle of blond curls hidden underneath the transparent material of her underwear pushing him over the edge. He blew on her pussy and she mewed, her hips jutting forward.
He yanked her panties down on a growl, then cupped her ass cheeks, bringing her against his face, wedging his tongue between her folds—taking what he’d needed all along—the slick between her legs.
He circled his tongue inside her, whipping her clit, licking and sucking it mercilessly. Violent shivers edged down her body, her legs almost gave out, but Lang kept her on her feet. After three weeks of masturbation, the mental images he’d conjured of her to satisfy himself had eaten away at his resolve. In the moment, Lily Gallo belonged to him, and he’d feast on her as long as he needed to. Until there was nothing left to suck out of her.
“Lang!”
The sound of her screaming his name inspired him even more. He could feel a weak pulse building inside her. He slipped his hands higher, clutching her hips. Come for me, baby. She raked her fingernails over his skull, riding him. She called his name again, then exploded. But Lang didn’t stop; he licked harder, piercing her with his thumb.
“No,” she begged.
Lang knew what she wanted. More. He pulled back to catch his breath, gazing up at her. She’d trusted him enough to shatter in his hands, and for that extraordinary leap of faith, she deserved another orgasm.
Chapter 12
She’d melted in his hands like wax, given everything to him without an ounce of resistance. What did that make her? Weak? Desperate? A slut? More choice descriptions whirled around inside her confused mind as she buttoned her jeans. Those wicked blue eyes did things to her, unraveled her too easily. And now his tongue and fingers had done the same.
“Lily,” he called to her. “Why won’t you look at me?”
Persuasion Page 7
